fear – ESCAPE VELOCITY

Friends with Danish subtitles

what treachery is that

May 17 / København

I said,

I am at the moment having some trouble getting out of Ingaʼs apartment

She said,

As in you are locked in?

I said,

As in it’s a little too beautiful out

There are a few too many possibilities

I’ve been hungry for two days, and there is so much food here, and she told me to eat everything

And now I am full but I’m afraid to leave the food

She said,

Do the thing you are most afraid of right?

Especially if what it is is leaving the house

I said,

Maybe it’s that there are barriers

Like changing my clothes

I keep dozing off because what bodily time is it?

Also now I am reminded of what treachery weʼre dealing with here.

suicide pact

May 19 / København

She said,

I am in a deep funk tonight.

I said,

I mean, there’s no point to anything, certainly

Iʼve been thinking a lot about this thing you said that night back in Brooklyn when I went off to maybe have sex with Redford (I didnʼt, by the way — he just stretched my hamstrings for me and showed me several drawings heʼd done of different breeds of dog pooping), the thing about desiring some alternative category of togetherness for us

Because I feel that, too

And I was thinking that we could slit our wrists together

She said,

A suicide pact. I never even thought of that and here I thought I was more involved in the dark arts than you.

I said,

Well

Iʼm trying to be psyched about continuing to live this life so maybe thatʼs not quite the one I want

Itʼs just, like, this is all so BURDENSOME

But

I guess Iʼm choosing to gamble on the premise that thereʼs an answer

If only one in the form of some formula for survival

She said,

I donʼt feel very close to death. Let’s keep at it; we can do better.

I said,

Iʼm sorry living is so much work

I wish I could magic it away for you

Although I guess if you were someone who could be fooled by magic I wouldnʼt have nearly as much use for you

Use, admiration, appetite

Need.

She said,

Thank you for offering a vague sense of possibility that doesnʼt feel dumb or like lies.

I said,

I guess Iʼm going to keep trying to pack

Iʼm petrified of Berlin

I canʼt even figure out how to say “Iʼm sorry, I donʼt speak German” in German.

She said,

Berlin is amazing and everyone speaks English, they are ashamed of everything too. You will love it there I suspect.

I said,

Iʼm looking forward to some public toplessness, I think.

this wont take me anywhere

May 22 / Berlin

She said,

What are you doing

I said,

I am in the apartment eating carrots because thatʼs all I have so far

Although probably I will rectify that soon

I am going to put something familiar and safe on my computer and try to, I donʼt know what, make things happen for myself

She said,

What are you wanting to happen?

I said,

Iʼd like to start cementing plans for what will be after Berlin

And

I want to not feel afraid all the time

but that seems like something I need to go inside for, not outside

She said,

What are you most afraid of?

I said,

Of everything in the whole world?

Prolapse.

She said,

Of your current endeavor

I said,

That I will have to go back to New York and just pick up where I left off

That this wonʼt take me somewhere

She said,

Well it will definitely take you somewhere it just might not be where you thought

I said,

Also Iʼm afraid of getting fat

She said,

Impossible to get fat on carrots.

I have been carrying White Noise

I said,

I have been carrying White Noise since Brooklyn

And Iʼm not sure if Iʼm not finishing it because I donʼt feel like reading it or because I donʼt feel like reading at all or because I do feel like reading, and badly, and Iʼm afraid of what will happen when I finish it

She said,

Donʼt donʼt donʼt read it right now

The world is falling apart

I said,

But is it?

I’m trying to imagine a future in which our capacity for happiness is less than it currently is

Are we standing in a bread line?

Am I dead of infection from a coat-hangering?

Lice?

Is everyone we know and don’t drowned in the rising sea?

It’s easy for me—with my sunburn and sack of discount bruised apricots and only a vague uneasiness at how the friendly fisherman affirm, to each other, “Juif” after I introduce myself—to be like, Everything is fiiiiine

But, like, everything is not fine

It’s terrible

It always will be, in various ways, and as things change, we will make changes, and we will go on

I don’t know what else to say

I’m not saying don’t care

But, like, run for office

OR find a way to keep enjoying the new and increasingly horrific world orders

As much as you’re capable of enjoying anything

I am the engineer of a small-scale sea snail Holocaust

My knapsack is soaked in their seawater, which leaked from the olive box while, presumably, I biked home, but my journal is dry

Yesterday Sylka told me that her mother — 90 or 95 years old, I guess — had a dream about telling me, Rachel, remember me

I guess I will

Anyway, I promised I would